


Obligate Parasites

by hujgup



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animal Instincts, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Parasites, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:53:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hujgup/pseuds/hujgup
Summary: What if the trolls' relationship with the mother grub is less mutualistic and more outright parasitic?What would the meteor trolls do when their brains are screaming at them to implant spores in another non-troll living thing and they really don’t want to because the humans are their friends and they refuse to use them as reproduction vectors.What would it be like to spend nearly every waking moment in a constant battle with yourself?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have some really fucked up ideas.

There’s been a lot of things you’ve found out about your species ever since you left Alternia behind. And holy _fuck_ , do you wish you didn’t.

The mother grub isn’t actually necessary, despite what imperial schoolfeeds told you. Any living thing will do. Any opening for genetic material to mingle and mix and react and create a new troll. It siphons the energy it needs from its host organism and hatches when it’s sufficiently developed. A smaller host would die in the process.

So yeah. It turns out your species is literally parasitic. It’s fitting, in a way. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it.

As you grew older your instincts started flaring up, demanding that you implant someone, some _thing_ , and the only living things on this godforsaken meteor that aren’t also trolls are the humans.

_Fuck that._ They are your _friends_ and you refuse to use them as nothing more than reproduction vectors.

Every waking moment is turning into a constant battle with yourself. You can see the other trolls going through the same thing – the hunger in Kanaya’s eyes when she looks at Rose transcends her bloodlust, and it scares you. It _terrifies_ her. One slip-up is all that’s needed - if any of you are too tired to stop yourselves, or too mad that you lose control – there’s an infinite number of ways your lives could go completely rumble-spheres-up.

You get the feeling it’s going to be a long sweep.

* * *

You’ve been spending an ever-increasing amount of time with Dave lately.

You’re not complaining, mind you. Sure, when you first met him your impression was that he was an insufferable douchefuck extraordinaire, but it quickly became obvious that Dave was a little lower on the douche-o-meter than you gave him credit for.

Also it turns out the music he makes isn’t nearly as mind-numbingly awful as his so-called “art” is, so that’s a plus.

But being best friends with a human is hard. Hell, it might even be harder than all those sweeps you spend hiding your mutation back on Alternia. You weren’t fighting yourself back then – every part of your think-pan was in agreement that not dying was a fantastic idea and that you should pursue it with fervour – but now your entire mind is embroiled in a gigantic conflict of interest. Seriously, it’s pretty much a civil war up there, and either way there’s not gonna be a victor - only the side that loses the least. And unlike in the troll Matthew Broderick classic _In Which a Wriggler possessing Considerable Computational Knowledge_ _Hacks into an Imperial Military Network and Plays Video Games with a Sentient A.I...,_ you don’t have the option not to play.

He’s been making increasingly obvious passes at you as of late. It’s not that you didn’t get the hint when his passes were more subtle – hell, they stood out like the Alternian sun: blindingly bright, radiating deadly energy, and slowly dying as its outer layers are blown off into- fuck when did you pick up the rambling metaphor thing from Dave – it’s just that you made a desperate effort to ignore them. The primitive parts of your think-pan just don’t know how to deal with being flushed for an alien; you can’t fill a bucket with him, and you can’t directly implant your material into something living because Dave **is** that something. He would _die_.

Eventually you had to explain things to him. It was embarrassing as all hell but you told him just why it was an awful idea to try and get into your pants.

But he didn’t understand. Not fully. He kept asking questions like “Why don’t you just jack yourself off in a different direction of some shit”, to which you replied “That’s not how it works _at all_ , have you been listening to **a word** I’ve been saying to you‽”.

The problem was, from that point on he knew you were interested, and that you were just stopping yourself. And that became a _huge_ problem.

He just kept pushing and pushing and _pushing_. It was too much. You started locking yourself in your room for days on end, constantly fighting to control your instincts – and surprisingly, it was working.

But then, in the middle of your latest self-imposed exile, Dave just barges right in while you’re still vulnerable. You’re not prepared for an encounter, you’re in full-on suppression mode, you don’t know what to do - but your subconscious knows _exactly_ what it wants to do.

You feel yourself uncurling from the ball you were huddling in, making your way towards him and taking off your pants.

You try. You try so hard to stop yourself. You step starts stuttering, but you’re still moving forward, still closing the distance towards him. You feel tears start to roll down your face.

Dave is your _friend_. He’s not just some animal.

Maybe if you think that loudly enough your primitive think-pan will get the message.

 

Haha who are you kidding, you’re royally screwed.

Your hips buck forward, your bulge pierces his skin, and he screams and screams and _screams_ and you can’t- you can’t _do **anything** _ \- you don’t have any control, you can’t pull back, nothing responds - your subconscious is overriding everything in its instinct-fuelled haze. You’re a prisoner in your own body, watching helplessly as Dave, the person in the world who’s come to mean more to you than any other, is _violated_ in front of you.

You’ve killed him. You know this. His body mass isn’t high enough to allow him to survive gestation. Your entire being _aches_ at the thought.

You feel a force violently pushing you off and you tumble to the ground, and you can feel someone pinning you down. You hiss and claw at the air; your instincts have never been easier to understand – **_Get up. Kill interloper. Inject_** \- but you’re overpowered. You can’t get up. You can’t kill.

And eventually, as your conscious mind regains control over your body, you can’t do anything but lie there, pinned under the person above you, and cry.


End file.
